


To Fall Down at Your Door (Remix of I'm Gonna Be)

by Emrys MK (mk_malfoy)



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Caring Arthur, Explicit Language, Hurt Merlin, M/M, Modern Era, Prostitution, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_malfoy/pseuds/Emrys%20MK
Summary: Often times, the moment we give up is when we find that which saves us. Arthur discovers this when he meets a rent boy called Merlin. Neither of their lives will ever be the same.





	To Fall Down at Your Door (Remix of I'm Gonna Be)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sksdwrld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/gifts).
  * Inspired by [I'm Gonna Be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1198425) by [sksdwrld](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld), [Soulbarebones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soulbarebones/pseuds/Soulbarebones). 



> When I received my assignment and went through sksdwrld’s fics, it took only one look at _I’m Gonna Be_ before I knew it was THE ONE. It called out to me and I wrote the rough draft in less than two hours because I was inspired. Thanks so much, sksdwrld, for writing such a beautiful, angst-filled story. It was a pleasure to remix, and I hope to have done it justice. Thanks so much to my wonderful beta (to be named later). Title taken from The Proclaimers song _I’m Gonna Be_.
> 
> Disclaimer: Merlin characters are the property of Shine and BBC. No profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

_"You cannot do a kindness too soon because you never know how soon it will be too late." --Ralph Waldo Emerson_

Arthur clicked on his go-to playlist for _crap days_ and turned up the volume in hopes that the combination of the violin, piano, flute, and cello would drown out the images of Merlin that continued to assault his mind with a vengeance, but he had no such luck. Rather than getting lost in Rachmaninoff, Arthur found himself looking longingly at the bag in the passenger seat—the one with the clothes he had bought for Merlin to wear that night.

Arthur had so wanted to see Merlin in that grey suit, pink shirt, and cornflower blue tie. But, instead of the two of them having a nice night at the theatre like he had planned, Arthur was left with driving to meet Leon to give him the tickets, and Merlin was doing who knew what with who knew who. The thought made Arthur want to be sick. The idea of that beautiful man out on the streets, whoring himself to get by—it wasn’t right.

Gripping the steering wheel in frustration, Arthur wondered how the evening had gone so wrong. 

He guessed it had all started that afternoon. One of Pendragon Incorporated’s most prestigious clients had jumped ship—taking with them millions of pounds in future profits—and Arthur’s father had been unbearable, ordering Arthur and his half-sister, Morgana, to do whatever it took to _get those clients back_.

Morgana had coped well enough (whilst rolling her eyes and talking out of the side of her mouth to anyone who would listen), but Arthur, who had left university a mere six months earlier and was still learning the ins and outs of the company, had been lost. Mercifully, his father had told him to leave, regroup, and come back ready to work Monday. Uther Pendragon, task master extraordinaire, did, it would seem, have a heart.

What did it say about Arthur that his first thought after being told to regroup was to go see Merlin?

When he’d met him, almost three months earlier, Arthur had understood what Merlin was and what he got up to with who knew how many other men and women. What he hadn’t known was that what he thought would be a few hours of feeling good would turn into something more.

Not a Friday had passed since without the two of them going to that cheap motel on the other side of Camelot and fucking for hours. After the first night, however, not a second of it had been about the sex, at least not for Arthur.

While Merlin _had_ made Arthur feel good, he wasn’t exactly good in bed. Arthur had found out that first night that Merlin couldn’t top to save his life, and the week after he’d found out that Merlin wasn’t the best bottom, either.

But, what Merlin _had_ given Arthur—hours of talking and cuddling, moments of understanding and commiserating, and his undivided attention—was more than enough, and Arthur had returned again and again.

And that is who Arthur had wanted to see as he climbed into his car after his disastrous afternoon, but the thought of their _usual_ wasn’t what Arthur had in mind, so when he recalled a conversation where Merlin had waxed poetic about the theatre, mentioning that it was on his bucket list (Arthur had been aghast to think that Merlin had never once been to the theatre), his mind was made up. He’d made dinner reservations, ordered theatre tickets, and called his tailor about getting a suit for Merlin.

If anyone had anything negative to say about him and Merlin, they could fuck off.

Of course, none of that mattered now. If Merlin’s reaction was something to go by, Arthur had probably scared him off for good.

Merlin’s face had lit up when he’d heard that Arthur was taking him to the theatre, but, in mere seconds, the beautiful smile had fallen and everything changed; he went all pale and his voice began to shake as he spoke about his pimp. Then he all but begged not to go to the theatre.

Regretfully, Arthur had dropped Merlin off and told him to be careful. As he walked away, Merlin had glanced back at him with one of the saddest looks Arthur had ever seen. It had been then and there that Arthur decided he was done enabling Merlin’s life on the streets. There must be another line of work for Merlin out there somewhere, preferably one that kept him indoors and behind a desk. 

Just maybe, Arthur knew where to start in looking for that. He did, after all, know the number one employer in Camelot.

Aggravated with the traffic that was going nowhere, and much too distracted to enjoy the music, Arthur turned off his playlist, but then it was much too quiet.

Arthur’s inability to get Merlin out of his mind was distressing, so much so that he very nearly found himself wishing he hadn’t met the boy, but as soon as that thought entered his mind, Arthur shook his head. He could never regret meeting Merlin.

It was down to Merlin that, for the first time in over a year, Arthur felt alive again.

“Come on, I have tickets to deliver! Effing Wankers,” Arthur groused as he hit the horn on his car and rolled his eyes at the drivers who were trying their best to make him miss his exit. _Of course_ the bastard in the car in front of him was on his mobile. Arthur looked at his and saw that Leon had texted; he was probably waiting for Arthur at the Rising Sun so he could get the tickets. Arthur’s eyes then refocused on the bag of clothes. He sighed.

Perhaps Merlin could still wear the suit to a job interview.

The tickets delivered, Arthur took a deep breath and prepared to call his father to request a meeting. He didn’t look forward to spending an hour with his father on a Friday evening when he would be with him the following afternoon at their weekly _family_ meal—they saw one another enough at work as it was—but he had important business to discuss that couldn’t wait until the following day. Arthur was serious about getting Merlin a proper job and, like it or not, his father was most likely the only chance of that happening.

“Call Uther Pendragon,” he said as he changed lanes and steeled himself for what was to come. He rarely made it through a call with his father without feeling a half-metre tall after, but this time it would be worth it. Or so he hoped.

As he waited for his father to answer, Arthur wondered how many other children had to call their parents to arrange a meeting before showing up. None of his co-workers had to. Just the previous night, he and Leon had popped in and had dinner with Leon’s parents, and no one had batted an eyelash. Arthur figured that was how _normal_ people went about their lives. Too bad Arthur’s family was anything but normal.

Arthur sighed. It wasn’t as if Uther and his bitch of a third wife, Catrina, were going to be fucking in the foyer since she’d run off to Berlin with some young model named Maximillian from Austria.

Three hours later Arthur pulled up to the same corner he’d left Merlin at earlier. He didn’t expect Merlin to be there at such a late hour—there were bound to be other customers for him to service—but, still, Arthur was hopeful that, just maybe, Merlin would be standing in his normal place.

The haunted look on Merlin’s face from earlier had bothered Arthur, and it continued to eat away at him now.

By default, Merlin’s life had to be shit. He whored himself to make ends meet. Who did that? Certainly not someone who had a good life. There was sure to be loads of things that Merlin could have been upset about, and not a one of them had been or was remotely Arthur’s right to know. Yes, Arthur fucked the boy on a weekly basis, but that didn’t make Merlin his responsibility.

A knock on his window pulled Arthur’s attention from his thoughts. When he turned and saw the familiar sight of Merlin, Arthur was so relieved that he smiled, but the grin faded when he saw a fresh gash on the side of Merlin’s face. All pretenses of letting Merlin dictate what happened next evaporated. He rolled down the window.

“Get in,” he said, trying to not look too distraught.

Merlin climbed in and did his lap belt up, but he didn’t say a word. He seemed more distant than he’d been earlier.

“Who did that to you?” Arthur asked, his anger rising quickly. He couldn’t afford to upset Merlin, however, so he tempered his expression.

Merlin shrugged and said nothing as he examined his hands. After several seconds, he turned to look at Arthur. “It doesn’t matter if I fuck a poor boy on the street who gives me the last bit of money he has or if I fuck you, _Mr Money Bags_ , who throws money at me as if it’s no object. My pimp takes it all, gives me a measly little bit, and then deems it necessary for me to go whore myself again and again.” Merlin took a shaky breath and returned his gaze to his hands.

“Is he the one who hit you?” It was a stupid question. Did it really matter who did it? It wasn’t as if Merlin was going to take Arthur to the person who’d done this and allow him to beat the living shit out of them. But Arthur wanted to know.

“Why do you care?” Merlin asked, turning towards Arthur with a glare. “I’ve been on the streets for five years, and, in all that time, no one has spared a thought for me. I liked it that way. I fucked and I turned in my money, and if I got roughed up, well, that was part of the job. I knew what I was getting into at the age of fifteen when my first job was sucking off a bobby as he waited for his shift to begin. I knew no one would ever care about me, but that was okay then and it’s okay now, Arthur. I do what I have to do to make ends meet. I’m not proud of what I do, but I do it and am making it. I could tell you stories that would make you sick to your stomach about my friends who _haven’t_ and are now six-feet-under. But I don’t want to tell you those stories. It’s not for you to worry about. This is my life. You need to stop worrying about me. I can take care of myself.” Merlin swallowed as he looked into Arthur's eyes, seemingly challenging him to say something. 

Not knowing what else to do, Arthur reached out his free hand and put it atop Merlin’s. This was so far out of his depth that he was scared he would do the wrong thing. He nodded, not because he agreed with what Merlin had said, but because he had to do something.

Merlin pulled his hand from beneath Arthur’s, grimacing as if Arthur’s touch burned him. “Do you want me to suck you tonight or are you going to fuck me? If neither, I need to go find someone else. Lot took all my money and I need to eat tomorrow. You can drop me off up there at that pub; there’s sure to be someone who wants a good fuck after getting all liquored up.” Merlin licked his hands and ran them through his hair and over his face, attempting to remove the dirt and grime. “Gotta look my best tonight. Maybe someone will be in a giving mood and I can get me a cuppa before I go home.”

Merlin’s calm voice might have fooled most others, but not Arthur. He could sense the turbulence that was just beneath the surface, and it made him furious. He wanted to hurt everyone who had ever taken advantage of Merlin, but then he remembered that he, himself, had done that very thing.

He had used Merlin for sex, and not even good sex, which he had often reminded Merlin of. Now that he thought about it, though, he wondered if Merlin’s lack of performance had been because he wasn’t enjoying himself.

If Arthur had to sell his body for sex, would he enjoy it? The thought was ludicrous. Of course he wouldn’t. So, then, why would Merlin?

Arthur was tempted to throw a wad of money at Merlin, but that wasn’t the answer. People giving Merlin money had meant only one thing to him for far longer than Arthur wanted to think about, and he would be damned if he contributed to that again.

He didn’t speak, just continued driving until his car pulled into his drive. He could hear sniffling beside him and knew he should say something. When he looked over at Merlin, he was shocked to see that Merlin looked frightened. Arthur wished he knew what to say.

“I’ve known you for almost three months, Merlin. Before you, I had never fucked a stranger. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why I decided to stop on your corner that night, or even why I kept coming back, but there is something about you. You and me, we’re almost the same age, but we come from such different backgrounds. I can’t let you go back there. I can’t go back there one day and find out that you’ve been killed.”

Merlin’s face crumpled and he shook his head. “You’re not my pimp; you can’t keep me against my will, Arthur. Please just take me back.”

Arthur shook his head as he realised his mistake. He felt such the fool. Of course Merlin would think he was trying to kidnap him or something worse. Arthur banged his head against the headrest. “Merlin, I would never keep you against your will, but please don’t make me take you back there.” He turned to look at Merlin, hoping he understood. He was exhausted and didn’t have it in him to explain further.

“What do you want, Arthur? Do you want to play house? This isn’t a game for me. This is my life. I don’t have a father who I can ask for money from. If I go a day without a job, I don’t eat.”

“But you shouldn’t have to fuck for what you need, Merlin.”

Merlin let out a mirthless laugh as tears made their way down his face. “Arthur, you’ve been kind to me, you’ve given me extra money, you’ve treated me like a human rather than the whore I am, and you have a heart of gold, but not even you can save me. I know you want to take me on, and you can probably even afford it. I get that. I even _want_ it. But what happens when you get tired of me? Are you going to take me back to my corner, drop me off, and say ‘goodbye, it’s been fun?’ This is my fucking life we are talking about. This is _it_ for me. I can fuck and go on and forget about the nameless faces—they don’t mean anything—but do you honestly think I can take it if you treat me wonderfully for a time and then decide you are done with me? I get that life is a gamble and sometimes you win and sometimes you lose, but I don’t want to even try to win. I just want to survive, Arthur. Do you understand that? I don’t think you can. All you are doing by talking to me and treating me all sweet and nice is building me up for the eventual fall, and I can’t handle that.” Merlin wiped his nose on his shirtsleeve, snot mingling with his tears.

Arthur really wished Morgana was here with him; she always seemed to know the right thing to do and say. She would probably tell Arthur that he needed to try to relate to Merlin. 

Arthur took a deep breath and steeled himself.

“My mother died when I was born,” Arthur said, rubbing at his own eyes. “My father blames me for her death. Yes, he gives me whatever I need monetarily, but there are things he will never be able to give me. You and me, we’re not so different, not really. We just want someone to love us.” Arthur couldn’t believe he was admitting this—he’d never spoken about this to anyone—but this was Merlin, and that made all the difference. “Stay at mine tonight?”

“You know I don’t do that, Arthur. It’s either in here, in a loo somewhere, or at a motel. Do you really think I want to spend the night in a warm bed with satin sheets, in a bedroom that is probably larger than the house I grew up in, and then have to go back to the streets tomorrow? No thanks. I’ll pass.”

Arthur deserved that. He hadn’t made his intentions clear. “I would never ask you to stay if I wasn’t interested in you as something more, Merlin, but I have to be honest and say I don’t know what the fuck I want—I guess we should talk about that tomorrow—but what I do know is that I don’t want you to stay with me tonight so I can fuck you. I just want you to eat a warm meal and get a good night’s sleep. I promise that’s all. Please?” he asked, unsure of himself, but, as he had already asked, he wasn’t about to rescind the offer.

“Arthur,” Merlin said, looking at him with such sadness. “Why are you doing this? I’m sure there are other boys who would love nothing more than for you to take care of them and get them off the streets; maybe you can find someone before it’s too late for them. It’s too late for me. There was a time that I would have loved to be given what you’re offering. Don’t you think I want to be loved? Hell, Arthur, I would give anything for that to happen. But, you don’t want me… you just think you do.”

Arthur wasn’t ready to give up. “I don’t know what will happen with us, Merlin, but even if we don’t work out, I promise you that you will never again have to work on the streets. If you want, you can come to work for my father. I met with him earlier and told him I have a friend who is a bit down on his luck at the moment and needs a job. He wants to meet you next week.”

Merlin looked at Arthur, shook his head for several seconds, then let out a laugh before throwing his hands up in defeat. “And you couldn’t have said that when I got in the car? You are a good fuck, Arthur, but you are a crap communicator,” he said as he turned his head towards the passenger-side window and wiped his eyes.

An hour later, Arthur cracked open the door to his guest room and smiled when he saw that Merlin was asleep, snoring softly, his brunet curls splayed across the pillow. He looked carefree as he slept, but Arthur knew there were stories that lived within Merlin that could curl his toes.

Maybe one day Merlin would share them with him, maybe not. Regardless, Arthur would be there for him, because Merlin, however unknowing, had been there for Arthur when he was at his lowest point.

As Arthur continued to watch Merlin sleeping, the emotions of the past few hours, days, and months came crashing down on him. He couldn’t hold back the tears as he slid down the wall next to the door.

Had Arthur not taken a wrong turn that night almost three months earlier and found Merlin, he would have ended up on the bridge that led into Essetir. 

He would have turned off his car. 

He would have slowly got out and stood on shaky legs by the car.

He would have walked to the edge of the bridge. 

He would have climbed up. 

He would have jumped.

He would have died.

But he _had_ taken a wrong turn and he _had_ seen Merlin standing on the corner, looking cold and hungry. 

He had stopped.

And he had lived.


End file.
